Under the Wyvern's Wing
by Das Vampyre
Summary: A new city and a new life or is it? Chapter five FINALLY UP! Nick is really starting to suspect his new partner is really more than what she appears...and knows more than she lets on.
1. Reawakening

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Forever Knight (though if I did, things would have turned out differently!), they are property of Sony/Tri-Star and I am merely borrowing them and promise to put them back relatively unscathed when finished with them. No copyright infringement is meant and I incur no financial gain by the posting of this story. It is merely for entertainment purposes only.

Detective Kayla MacInnis (amid other characters introduced herein), and The Wyvern, however ARE mine and I will personally tear the throat out of anyone who dares steal them.

This takes place several years after 'Last Knight'

That said, and with upfront apologies to all Nick-and-Nat-packers (just wait till the end of the story till you flame me, please), enjoy the story.

Das Vampyre

* * *

Under the Wyvern's Wing

Present day, San Francisco

Nick couldn't believe the luck, or was it lack thereof, that placed him in his current situation. He could almost _hear_ LaCroix laughing at him, and the condescending tone telling him 'I told you so, Nicholas.' It was enough to make him ill.

Water dripped with a hollow, metallic echo in the old, abandon warehouse and distant chains clanked with the slow evening breeze that filtered through shattered windows. Outside of that the silence was deep, penetrating and nigh on tangible in its intensity. Suddenly he heard the scream. It was that more than anything that forced him to pause and take stock of the moment and recall, with unnerving clarity, what had brought him to this point.....

* * *

Chapter One

Reawakening

Five years previous, Toronto

He was in the Toronto loft again. He could still taste Natalie's blood in his mouth as he knelt by her side – agonizing over what had to be done. Over what he would now have to ask LaCroix to do.

"No, not the Devil," he could hear himself muttering to his master. "You are my closest friend."

"Damn you, Nicholas!" LaCroix had snarled as the sharpened end of the ceremonial walking staff descended toward his unprotected back.

It was a blow that the ancient vampire could not bare to strike.

He felt the wooden staff in his hands, heard the words he growled at his son. As the dark wood shaft descended, a part of him wanted to strike that fatal blow. To end it all there. But he could not. He could not kill the one other vampire in the world that actually meant something to him. Divia had seen to the others: Vachon, Urs.....both gone thanks to his blood-thirsty daughter/mother, them and how many others? And now, Nicholas. His own beloved, if wayward, son. Begging him to strike the blow that would end his sons' immortal life.

He felt the staff make its unerring downward descent, when the reality of what he was about to do struck home. He couldn't do it. Nor would he.

The downward arc of the projectile was adjusted ever so slightly. It would not be a killing blow. No. Nicholas must be taught a lesson.

Yes....that was the answer. A lesson he would not soon forget.

And with that thought – the blow was struck.

The pain was agonizing. Worse than anything Nick could yet recall experiencing.

The world swirled in a haze of multi-hued color at first, then deepening to shades of oh, so familiar crimson, and finally darkness.

But hopes for a blissful, dark eternity were shattered when he became dully aware of his surroundings - to the incessant ringing of his phone and the familiar message of his answering machine. But no message was left....only silence.

There was still a pain in his chest from where the wooden staff had made its entry, but now, through bleary eyes, he could see the shattered remains of that ancient timber. So this would be his punishment for his 'betrayal'. A further life of servitude to his master, more agony, more angst.....more pain.

His eyes cleared slightly and lit on the sight of a wilted crimson rose. Right were Nat had lain. A sob rose to his throat as his hand reached out blindly to touch.....a bottle? That gained his full attention. With an effort he raised his head and regarded, with a perplexed gaze, the row of bottles of the "Raven, Special Reserve" that both LaCroix and so many other patrons of the community were so fond of.

Without thinking, or perhaps fully realizing it, Nick grabbed hungrily at the bottle and pressed its opening to his lips. The full flavor and satisfying rush that filled his veins, even as the blood he swallowed took their hold on his vampiric senses. That first bottle was drained swiftly, then several more in rapid succession. Before he realized it, he had drained four of the Special Reserve bottles and laid their empty hulls at his feet. With a groan of muted pain, he sat up and took stock of his situation. Nat, or rather her body, was gone. In its place, the withered rose and a sheet of folded paper bearing LaCroix's characteristic scrawl, bearing on its visible portion his name, 'Nicholas'.

With a heavy sigh, he reached over and took both the wilted rose and note card in his hand and drew them to him. Absently taking a long pull from yet another bottle, he flipped open the slip of paper and read:

'_Did you really think I would let you go so easily, Nicholas? You, of all people, should know better. _

_I have taken care of Dr. Lambert's...arrangements, and put your affairs here in order. _

_Aristotle is expecting you, and will pass on your new identity and all pertinent information when you feel ready._

_You know we will meet again, Nicholas. We always do._

_I await your return to me,_

_Lucien'_

That was, in a manner of speaking, the final nail in the coffin. It made him cold to think that he had betrayed Nat like that. How many through the ages had he done that to? Too many to keep count of, for sure. But he remembered every one of them, with crystalline clarity. He was disgusted - with LaCroix, with himself, with the community as a whole.

The thought, briefly, to starve himself to death. But the proximity of the blood and his own weakness saw fit not to let that happen.

Two days more he lingered in the loft. Setting up his inevitable meeting with Aristotle and seeing to it that his affairs were well and truly set in order to his satisfaction.

'Running away again.' He thought with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach as he turned over the engine of the Caddy. Would it ever end? Most likely not. Not if he continued to make alliances and friends that he always lost.

Schanke. Cohen. His beloved Janette. Tracy. Natalie. Even Vachon and Urs. All were gone. All because of him, or at least he blamed himself for their loss. A new city would only invite new losses, but it couldn't be helped – this was the life that he had. The only life he was granted. His curse would follow him wherever he went, and he was, begrudgingly, resigned to that fate.

So it was away from Toronto, away from Canada as a whole. It was arranged that his new home and identity take up residence in the States. The 'sunny' shores of California, and the dark underworld that dwelt in "the City by the Bay", San Francisco.

It wasn't difficult to get acclimated to San Francisco on the whole. The living arrangements that had been set up for him were not entirely different than the loft he'd left behind in Toronto, only here it didn't seem to raise nearly as many eyebrows. It was with more than amusement that he seemed to be able to meld in with the emerging 'Goth' community. And he couldn't help but find amusement how many of the real vampire community found their niche therein

But being sedentary was never something that suited Nick's needs. He needed to keep his mind active, and still questing for his elusive 'cure'. He tried a variety of jobs within the city through the years, but never settled on anything in particular. Then, and it just seemed to 'happen', he was drawn again to police work.

Arrangements were made, and then, the one evening all fell into place, and he joined up with some of San Francisco's finest.

Office of Captain Lanna Kenyan

The wan looking woman regarded the new officer to her force over the file provided by personnel. "You've got an impressive background, that's for sure, Mister DeBrabant." She muttered tossing the file on her desk to face the regard the blonde haired, blue eyed dream-boat that had just sailed into her office and fixed him with what could have possibly been construed as a predatory gaze. Not in a threatening manner, but certainly intense. One thing, for sure, Lanna mused to herself with an enigmatic smile, the new recruits coming in were _definitely_ easier on the eye than most of the old hats in the station.

"Thank you." Nick chose to demure that statement to the police Captain as he made himself as comfortable as possible in the generic faux-leather chair in her office. "I've had my eye on joining up with San Francisco's elite for a while. I just figured it was time to actually do something about it."

The Captain's smile broadened. "I'm so very glad you did." She managed to tear her eyes away from him to regard his file once again. "The remarks from your former employers certainly put a nice shine on your record."

'Thanks to Aristotle.' Nick thought with a slight, well concealed smirk, and again muttered demure thanks.

"You say you want to stick to a night shift, which is fine, we've just got one opening." She shuffled some papers around on her desk to regard her current roster. "Actually one slot just opened up." At this comment though, she looked somewhat uneasy. "And I can't have any lone guns wandering the streets of the city. Not now. Too dangerous out there now. We're going to have to stick you with a partner – like it or not." Dark mahogany eyes trailed over the roster and settled on one name. A smile accompanied by a wicked glitter in her eyes lit her face. "And I know just the person."

Nick shifted uncomfortably in the chair under that sudden look of gleeful maliciousness that lit the brunette Captain's eyes. He was thinking of when he had initially been teamed with Schanke and couldn't keep from rolling his eyes somewhat, though he managed to fully stifle the groan that threatened.

Lanna, however, didn't miss that look. "Don't worry; Mac is a total professional and a delight to work with." She grinned like a death's head, or a child just awarded a coveted prize. With that delighted grin she rose and hauled Nick to his feet. "Come on, you two simply _must_ meet!" She hauled him down a hallway and to a row of offices then stopped before a particular one. She tapped on the door briefly, and, receiving no reply mused, "Must be getting coffee." Then shrugged dismissively. "I'm sure you two will get along famously!" She practically gushed as she opened the office door and unceremoniously shoved him into the florescent lit alcove. "Welcome to the force!" She muttered, ill concealing a snicker and shut the door behind him. There were sure to be fireworks a-plenty soon enough.

Casting off his inhibitions, or at least initial ones, Nick turned with haste to regard an empty office. Well, empty of humans anyway. The only thing therein was a massive desk and three chairs. The wall facing him was adorned with several pictures – not the least of which was a black and white print of a knight-errant leaning down from the back of his coal-black charger to accept a favor from a fair maid. It struck more than a mild cord within him. The other two images were of officers from, he assumed, this force. Each with a black band at the corner of the frame, no one needed to tell him what that signified. He knew all too well.

Casting his eyes over the rest of the office then letting them settle on the engraved brass nameplate on the desk. Det. K. MacInnis. Briefly he wondered what the 'K' could stand for.

Then he met Kayla....


	2. Mac the Knife

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Forever Knight (though if I did, things would have turned out differently!), they are property of Sony/Tri-Star and I am merely borrowing them and promise to put them back relatively unscathed when finished with them. No copyright infringement is meant and I incur no financial gain by the posting of this story. It is merely for entertainment purposes only.

Detective Kayla MacInnis (amid other characters introduced herein), and The Wyvern, however ARE mine and I will personally tear the throat out of anyone who dares steal them.

This takes place several years after 'Last Knight'

That said, and with upfront apologies to all Nick-and-Nat-packers (just wait till the end of the story till you flame me, please), enjoy the story.

Das Vampyre

* * *

Under the Wyvern's Wing

Chapter Two

Mac the Knife

She had seen Lanna beat a hasty retreat from her office door and high-tail it back down the hallway. What Kayla MacInnis hadn't seen, however, was the individual the Captain had unceremoniously shoved into the office. She had known that Lanna had been gunning to set her up with a new partner after what happened to Patrick. Kayla was in no genuine hurry, but she was getting really tired of being a 'desk jockey' and wanted to get out in the field again, and the only way that the Captain was going to let that happen was setting her up with a new partner. With a sigh that heaved itself up seemingly from the tips of her toes she plodded back to the door of her office.

It didn't take opening the door to realize, with a sudden rush and wave of resentment, that there was someone else in there. She's take this little 'breech of etiquette' up with her Captain later.

With the stealth that one would normally attribute to a cat-burglar, she pried open the door and hazarded a peek within. The back and profile that met her gaze nearly made her forget about being moderately annoyed with Lanna at the moment. She opened the door fully and lent her back against the jam. "So," She intoned with more than a slight smirk to her lips, "you're the partner _du jour_, eh?" She offered the attractive, blonde gentleman a genuinely friendly smile. "Gotta give it to Lanna, she's trying every trick in the book, and even some that aren't in it, to get me teamed up with someone. One would think I was getting on her nerves here." She extended her hand to him companionably. "Kayla MacInnis. Pleasure to meet you, Mister....?"

Nick started to the voice behind him and actually had to do a double take. It had been a _long_ time since someone had really been able to surprise him like that, much less sneak up on him. He took the proffered hand and gave it a firm but friendly shake. "Nicola DeBrabant." He said politely. "Sorry, but you startled me."

Kayla grinned. "I seem to have that effect on a lot of people around here you'll find." She indicated a seat across from her desk. Though I think the average is fewer and fewer that will chock it up to being startled to being downright unnerved." She shrugged with a smile. "Not that it bothers me. Please, take a seat. I assume that Lanna, that is Captain Kenyan, has chosen to put us together as a team. Am I correct?"

Nick flashed an amused smirk. "You know what they say about assumption. But in this case, yes, it would be correct." He took the seat offered, and regarded the young woman who settled comfortably behind the desk.

She was not unappealing to the eye in the least, Nick appraised. A somewhat petite, trim figure, not the least bit disguised by the plain but stylish pant-suit she wore. Soft emerald eyes that glittered with more than just a hint of good natured mischief, and a full, thick mane of gilt touched strawberry. Certainly Kayla MacInnis was going to be, at the very least, easy on the eye. And, based solely on first impressions, would indeed be easy enough to get along with. Certainly he was no fool and realized that in the same instant she was appraising him similarly and came to fairly the same conclusion.

"So," she began casually, leaning back in her chair, "seems you've been saddled with the unenviable task of keeping me in line." Her smile was offered in good nature, but he could see just a hint of...something...possibly resentment...behind it. Nick wasn't sure that he couldn't blame her. He still remembered vividly the day Stonetree teamed him with Don Schanke. "Though I highly doubt we'll manage any calls tonight. I think Lanna wants to see if we get along first." She smirked. "Which in and of itself, is a first for her." An inscrutable glitter lit her eyes. "I think she wants to find out if you're going to end up trying to strangle me." She offered a nonchalant shrug. "Guess we'll have to see."

It was not without some trepidation that he felt as though he was betraying Nat's memory, as well as Tracy and countless others. But a coolly intellectual part of his brain whispered 'dead is dead, and there's nothing can be done about it. Move on.' The mental voice gave him pause and a cold shiver down his spine – but he couldn't argue with the point it made. He _would_ have to get along eventually. And, for once shared the mindset of his master, and reasoned: if it _had_ to be done – best enjoy it. And he resolved himself to do just that. At least as best he could.

A moment of long, heavy silence descended on the small office while the two continued their appraisal of the other. As that moment of tangible silence lengthened, Nick saw Kayla's eyes dart to regard the glue-chipped glass panel in the door, and a knowing smile tick at the corners of her lips and she inclined her head that direction to indicate that their conversation was being monitored.

With same stealth that she had displayed earlier, Kayla deserted her chair and crept quietly to the office door. Within the span of a heart beat the door was flung open and a red-faced and very awkward looking Lanna Kenyan stood in the opening.

"I hope," Kayla said, casually regarding the fingernails on her right hand, "that our first meeting went as well as you had hoped, Lanna." She cast a meaningful look at her Captain, and there was no disguise to the thick layer of sarcasm with which the words were delivered.

The precinct Captain looked suitably rebuked. "Just wanted to make sure you two were getting on is all." She began with an air of confidence that was clearly lacking, and the words just came out sounding like a lame excuse for eavesdropping.

"If you want to know the content of conversations in this office, Captain, I suggest a wire tap." The suggestion was offered in a tone as smooth as silk. "You've done it before." And before Lanna could even draw a breath to defend herself or her actions, eyes of crystalline emerald regarded Nick with what was clearly more than mild or moderate annoyance. "I was about to suggest taking a drive to acquaint my new partner with his new work environment." Those eyes now fixed swiftly on him. "If he would be so inclined, that is."

He certainly didn't need an engraved invitation. Rising and taking up his black duster then tossing it casually over one arm, he presented the annoyed red-head a slight nod. "I think that would be a good idea." He offered by way of answer to the unasked question.

"Glad to hear it." Kayla muttered with a ghost of a smile, and then rounded on her Captain again. "An excursion, to which, I assume, there are no objections." It wasn't presented as a question.

Her own coat and a jangling set of car keys in hand, Kayla made her way back around from the desk to the office door. "I have my cell if needed." She said with a hint of menace that the precinct Captain actually offered a visual balk to. "Though, somehow, I don't think it's going to be an issue tonight."

She gestured that Nick should precede her out the door. Which, with but a moments hesitation, he did. And hyper-keen ears didn't miss the soft growl of a string of profanity, in a myriad of languages, issuing from Kayla's lips as they made their way down to the garage.

While the elevator ride down two floors was uneventful, aside from a few good natured jibes directed Kayla's direction from some blue-shirts – which were summarily ignored or merely put off with an indulgent, if weary, smile on behalf of the tormented. By the time they had reached the garage, it was clear she was in a far better humor.

"Sorry." She muttered softly, but loud enough to be heard over the squealing of tires and the loud bark of a siren from a black-and-white. "It's the little things that get to you, you know." She shrugged dismissively and offered a weak smile. "Guess I really made a good first impression, eh?"

Nick smiled indulgently. "I've seen worse."

This time, her smile was genuine. "Thanks." Then a sudden thought seemed to occur to her out of the blue. "Hope you don't mind taking a ride. I just thought it would be better to get out of there and commune on a person-to-person level and not have to play Lanna's game of 'good cop, bad cop."

At this he actually had to chuckle. "No. I don't mind." It had been a long while since he had really had a chance to 'explore' the city like this. It would be a welcome break. At least he supposed. "Just for the record, which one are you, the good cop or bad cop?"

Kayla grinned. "Depends on who you ask."

It was a bit of a walk from the elevator to where Kayla parked her car. A fairly unassuming emerald green Saturn: save for the plate holder stating 'Kay-lee's Ticket Attracter', and a bumper sticker reading 'Kiss Me Arse' in Gaelic.

The car alarm chirped softly, echoing in the confines of the garage, and the two settled into the dark grey interior comfortably and in surprisingly companionable silence before she turned the engine over and the melodic strains of Pink Floyd's _Comfortably Numb_ filled the interior.

"Sorry." She offered with a slightly sheepish grin, turning the stereo off. "Sometimes you just need a little trip to get you away from the drudgery of real life."

That was something Nick could more than relate to. He just kept the mild smile fixed to his lips and gave the impression of listening intently to all she imparted about the night-life of the city and what tasks they would be set to. As they drove he sensed more than a few members of the community hereabout. Many, like him, displaced from the familiar and trying to fit a square peg in a round hole – as it were – soldiers without a country.

Kayla rambled on, but he found himself paying less and less attention to her. He'd heard it all before, after all, and was more than familiar with the beat. He let his mind wander. Listening to the pleasant drone of tires on pavement, car horns outside and Kayla's steady voice – and lost himself in memories of past and errant daydreams for the future.

It took the snap of Kayla's fingers to bring him back to reality and the realization that his new partner had pulled the car over and was offering him a very concerned if somewhat perplexed countenance.

"Thought I'd lost you there for a minute." She muttered, leaning back into her seat, and biting back another comment that would have only served to upset _her_ personally. "I didn't realize I was quite _that_ boring. I mean I'm _used _to talking to myself, but not when someone else is around." It was meant as a joke, but in the underlying tone there was genuine concern, and for some reason, Nick was touched by it.

"No." He returned lamely, looking abashed. "Not you at all, I assure you. Just lost in thought to be honest. Didn't mean to be rude, just got caught up in thinking."

Kayla smirked slightly. "No worries. Just didn't want to bore you into a coma is all." She leaned an elbow casually on the steering wheel. "I've been told it happens quite frequently. Seriously thought, I know when I'm boring someone." She regarded him carefully, and Nick was immediately struck by the intensity of her gaze – it was not wholly unlike one of his own ilk, and for that very reason made him uneasy. "You know all this rigmarole by heart, don't you? And could probably give me lessons on where I've done my discourse wrong." She tapped the side of her nose knowingly and slipped into a light brogue. "Aye, as sharp as a bag of hammers, I am. Ya can'ne hide these things from a canny Scot."

Smiling, he flung his arms up in a gesture of mock surrender. "Alright, you've got me dead to rights, officer!" Her laughter was like crystalline, clarion bells of a time long past and memories that held a painful remembrance of one of his true kin, long lost to this world...Fleur.

"Think I can honestly say that's the first time a fella's said that to me without having a nightstick at the back of his neck and handcuffs on his wrists." She mused earnestly. "It makes for a pretty nice change."

Nick shook off the shroud of melancholy that had settled over his shoulders and offered a half-hearted smile. "Glad to help."

"Tell you what, what's say we dispense with the formality, since it's pretty clear you know all this b.s. anyway and just see if we can get along...and by that I mean get through what would be a shift without you wanting to throttle me." She eased the Saturn back into the surprisingly light flow of evening traffic and just tooled around aimlessly and in silence, seemingly content, for the moment, to leave him to his private musings.

It was almost two hours into the aimless meandering of the city streets and side streets that she finally caved and broke the silence. "Not wanting to pry, but lengthy silence unnerves me, just wondering how long you've been in the area. You don't strike me as a Bay Area, much less California native."

He had wondered how long it was going to take and was pleasantly surprised at the stay of heavy silence she had allowed. Without really thinking, he answered, unawares that his carefully fabricated background would unravel with his answer. "I've been in Canada for the last few years. Only came to the States recently."

Kayla merely nodded. "Mind if I inquire as to what you did there that would make you so familiar with police procedure."

An innocent enough question on the surface, but it was enough to jar Nick out of his absent minded revere and back to reality. "I..." he floundered for an excuse, even a lame one, she had caught him off guard again, and he silently berated himself for his mental lapse. "I did some work for an art dealer in the Toronto area." A half-truth, to be sure, but he had to say something. "He had some friends on the force and I learned a little from them."

"More than 'a little', I would say." Kayla mused, mostly to herself, but the inference was not lost on her companion.

It didn't take vampiric instinct to know that he'd made a severe faux pas. It would be no use trying to hypnotize her, not while she was driving anyway. And he had the distinct impression that she would be much like Natalie and resist that self-defense mechanism of his kind. "They tended to have loose tongues when plied with strong drink." He added quickly and was visibly relieved to see her curiosity to that subject was seemingly mollified. But the part of him that kept wary these many hundreds of years sensed in her a profound knowledge and perhaps understanding of the darker community that lurked in the shadows.

It would be seven months into their tenure as partners when he found out just how profound that knowledge was.


	3. Encounter at Fort Point

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Forever Knight (though if I did, things would have turned out differently!), they are property of Sony/Tri-Star and I am merely borrowing them and promise to put them back relatively unscathed when finished with them. No copyright infringement is meant and I incur no financial gain by the posting of this story. It is merely for entertainment purposes only.

Some locales used are real places within SFO I make no claim to them nor the implied authenticity thereof.

Detective Kayla MacInnis (amid other characters introduced herein), and The Wyvern, however ARE mine and I will personally tear the throat out of anyone who dares steal them.

This takes place several years after 'Last Knight'

That said, and with upfront apologies to all Nick-and-Nat-packers (just wait till the end of the story till you flame me, please), enjoy the story.

Das Vampyre

* * *

Under the Wyvern's Wing

Chapter Three

Encounter at Fort Point

It had been simple for Nick to fall back into the routine of police work. And San Francisco wasn't wholly different from Toronto in many ways. And it hadn't been so long since he had been there that the area was entirely unfamiliar to him. Progress did little to change a city like this one – at least not in the long run.

It was early October, clearly from her behavior, Kayla's favorite time of year. Halloween decorations went up around the office and surrounding buildings and plans for a large 'office party' were being made.

Kayla bounced into the office she and Nick now shared. Another desk and more chairs had found their way into the room – for which there was ample space.

An elated grin lit her face as she tossed her black leather jacket over the back of her chair and flounced down, regarding her partner with what could only be a purely wicked expression.

"What's put you in such a good mood?" Nick queried with a lightly raised eyebrow. He actually surprised how swiftly he'd managed to get in sync with Kayla. He had been so fully focused on working that he found, even in this short time, that the pain of his most recent losses seemed dim and far more distant than they were. There was little about Kayla, or in fact his work here, reminded him of the life he forfeit in Toronto. Since coming to work here he had spent precious little time brooding. That, in and of it self, surprised him.

Kayla flounced again, folding her fingers under her chin she rested her head thereon and smiled enigmatically. "Can't a gal just be in a good mood once in a while?"

Nick chuckled. "Not you. Or at least so I've learned."

Kayla smirked and tossed a yellow notepad playfully across the desk at him. "Only seven months and you know me too well, DeBrabant!" She teased lightly.

He ducked the canary-hued missile. "So what's the _reason_ for this personality abduction of my partner?"

She still grinned and casually responded. "No reason, really, just love this time of year is all."

"Uh-huh. Sure. That and a dollar will buy you a cup of coffee."

"Not in this city." She quipped back, leaning back casually in her chair and staring up to the ceiling.

Their load of cases had been surprisingly light, and the light caseload gave them a chance to get acquainted. She had been fairly open with regards to talking about herself but was clearly guarded on certain issues. The meaning behind the pictures of the two fallen officers on her office wall was the primary one that Nick took note of. The other was her family, though there were times when he came into the office when she was on the phone speaking in soft, guarded Gaelic. Family could be a funny thing, he mused not without some irony. Some things, he reasoned, just took time - time and trust.

He was not blind to the envious looks of other female officers that were now directed Kayla's way. Those which, at first, had been indulgent and patient for the seemingly inevitable break between the two detectives, turned to at first mild, moderate then outright clear annoyance that at least _one_ of the office pools wasn't going to pan out.

He had no clue of the other whisperings or pools that were taking place, and very likely would not have appreciated them if he had.

Lanna ducked her head in the open door and quickly dispelled a smirk from her lips. "Got a live one for you two." She muttered, tossing a folder with a yellow sticky note attached on the desk. "Down by Fort Point. Call just came in about a stabbing. M.E.'s already en route. Now hop-it you two! Mac's costing me a small fortune in coffee alone." Then she ducked back out and down to the hall.

"Killjoy!" Kayla muttered with a good-natured snort toward the doorway. "Well, you heard da boss." She shrugged the leather jacket onto her shoulders and bounced on her heels waiting for Nick to don his duster, then, strode with a springy gait down to the garage and the infamous 'Ticket Attracter', and the first real case of the night. Once inside the car, however, she lost her seemingly carefree air and turned all business. "What say we get this over with ASAP and enjoy the night." He couldn't help but chuckle.

There was a full Harvest moon hanging over the city and bathed it in the warm, soft orangey glow. And, even though they were far from the beach at the moment, the tang of brine could just barely be detected in the air.

Fort Point Historical Monument and Lighthouse

The old Army fort stood a silent testament to old Civil War days. Now a popular tourist spot under the imposing grandeur of the Golden Gate Bridge it stood its stoic and silent sentinel under the massive steel bridge. A light mist of ground fog dispersed like the mist of dry ice at a concert under the wheels of the Saturn as they pulled up to the parking area of the old fort. Kayla swore under her breath softly seeing the coroners' vehicle and muttered the name Callahan, with clear and obvious disgust. The M.E. was there along with three other members of the SF P.D., most of whom just gave them a dismissive glance, talking to two pairs of teen couples.

It seemed that the teenagers had thought to make an excursion to the old fort to drink and tell ghost stories, in preparation for Halloween, as they put it. The excuse was met with indulgent, if somewhat condescending smiles on behalf of the P.D. Obviously they weren't _just _going to tell ghost stories. The drinking had got out of hand, terse words and threats were exchanged and violence ensued. Once one of the young men had sobered up enough to get his story straight the truth had, inevitably, come out. One was jealous of what the other had and stabbed him. Fairly cut and dried.

Kayla rolled her eyes softly to the excuse and muttered something to the extent of "if you're going to go somewhere for mood to tell ghost stories and get lucky – at _least_ you could have gone to Colma!" Shaking her head she approached the M.E. and his assistant with the wariness of someone expecting to get their head bitten off.

Nick found out quickly that assessment wasn't too far off the mark.

Callahan, a young man of perhaps 35, looked up from his crouch and paperwork when Kayla approached and regarded her with the dark predatory gaze of a wolf just having come upon a wounded rabbit. Instantly he made Nick uneasy. This was not the coroner that they usually dealt with in these cases. He shoved back a lock of dishwater brown hair from equally unimpressive eyes to regard the two detectives. "Well!" He exclaimed with a smirk. "Lookie what the fog dragged in! If it isn't _Detective_ MacInnis and her **_new_** partner!" There was a little too much emphasis on the word 'new' for even Nick's taste and he could keenly sense trouble brewing. Callahan's assistant just chuckled, zippered up the body bag and, with an exaggerated 'huff' pushed the gurneyed body toward the waiting ambulance and well out of earshot.

"Why don't you just crawl back under the rock you came from, Callahan? " Kayla queried in a tone dripping with icy, ill-concealed venom and regarded the young man with an expression clearly akin to disgust. "I hear Alcatraz is particularly nice this time of year."

Callahan was unruffled and lifted his head slightly to Nick, muddy eyes still on Kayla and a superior smirk on his lips. "You're DeBrabant, right?" He postured and received a nearly imperceptible nod of confirmation. "I'd be careful around Mac here if I were you." He sneered nastily. "I hear her partners have a bad habit of kicking off in a bad way." This statement garnered not only surprised looks but a few softly muttered 'oooohh's' from the regular officers.

That did it. Kayla's spine went ram-rod rigid and she fixed the M.E. with an icy emerald gaze. "Tell me something, Callahan...what does it feel like to get a _really_ cold one?"

Callahan's smirk faltered and he redirected his gaze to the object of his harassment. "A really cold what?" He queried.

There was a tangible sense of trouble in the air even before Kayla's action had been perceived. Even the reflexes of an eight centuries old vampire could have been taken for slow and would not have altered the red-head's course of action.

Wheeling back the seemingly petite detective launched a vicious right hook to the side of the smirking M.E.'s face. A sound that could best be described as 'a fist sinking into one-hundred and forty pounds of ground chuck' would have applied and preceded the swift decent of the young man into the dusty ground. Effectively knocked out cold by the vicious, well aimed strike. "A cold shot to the side of the head, you self-righteous prick." Kayla snarled softly and stalked away past the snickering, wide-eyed officers, who had turned a blind eye to the blow itself.

One of whom remarked quietly "I've wanted to do that for_years_!" Others called out: "Don't worry, Mac! We'll take care of all the paperwork!" And "We've got your back!"

Kayla had stalked to the moonlit outer walls of the old fort and was pacing like a caged tiger, muttering to herself incoherently. She didn't even notice Nick until he cleared his throat and ventured cautiously. "Are you alright, Kayla?"

With a muted curse she turned and hurled her fist into the brick siding of the old fort. It didn't take the memory of being mortal for Nick to know that that hurt like Hell. And the wince Kayla offered in response to the impact only confirmed it. "Peachy." She muttered followed by a low hiss of pain. "I think I sprained my wrist when I hit that bastard." It was clear that she did _not_ mean the old fort by her comment, but it didn't take a genius to realize she could have easily incurred the injury by deciding to take on a brick building. Clearly she was not aiming for that option though. There was more personal satisfaction in the first strike laid.

"Bricks don't hit back." He muttered, trying desperately not to smile at the inherent humor of the situation. Twisted, perverse - yes, but humor none the less.

He was offered a wry smile in return. "Thanks for that pearl of wisdom, Confucius." She shook her hand out and winced again. "Sorry. I didn't plan to loose my temper like that." She muttered miserably. "You know how someone can just..." she faltered for a moment, "a person can only take so much before they snap. Guess that was my breaking point."

A feeling he knew all too well. The pungent, metallic tang of fresh blood rose up like a miasma from the shredded skin of his partner's hand. It assailed Nick's senses with its intoxicating bouquet. He felt his fangs itch at the roof of his mouth and it took more than a little self-control on his part to turn and keep her from seeing the gold tint that had arose in his eyes. Unbidden his stomach gave a low rumble.

Kayla offered a soft chuckle. "Skip breakfast, partner?" She asked as she came up on his side, curious and surprisingly concerned for someone who had just gone a round with a brick wall.

It was all he could do to keep his eyes down cast and averted. "Something like that, yea." He muttered dismissively. He changed the subject quickly, gaining a slight edge on his desire for blood. "It may not be sprained, but you've managed to slice up those knuckles pretty bad." He hazarded a glance at her hand and took it in his, examining the lacerations thereon.

She shook her head dismissively. "I'll be fine." Was offered, as, with some reluctance she drew her hand away from his. A moment in time froze when two eyes met and soft emerald was held fast by pale sky blue. It wasn't until the bark of one of the black-and-white's sirens barked to life that normalcy and reality seemed to return. "I'll be fine." She repeated in a somewhat less confident tone.

"I still think you should have it looked at." His own tone softened, surprising even him, and he offered her a smile. "Humor me."

With a deeply dramatic sigh, she relented. "Alright. You win...this time." She offered with a lopsided grin. "I think we've had enough excitement for one night, don't you?" She queried with an odd expression dancing just behind her eyes. She let herself be guided back to the car and begrudgingly into the passenger seat, cradling her hand gingerly against her.

Nick's attention was drawn away from assuming the drivers seat by one of the uniformed officers. "Don't worry about Mac, Detective." The petite brunette said with a smile. "Callahan's been booking for that for a _long_ time." She played a playful chuck to his upper arm. "This will all blow over faster than a toothpick in a hurricane." She winked. "You'll see. It'll never even make it to Captain Kenyan's desk. _We'll_ make sure of that." She waved them off. "Have a good night, Detectives."

Nick shook his head and issued a softly wistful sigh. In another time that young officer could have very well been Jenette. He shrugged the thought off and just chuckled. Sliding into the coveted drivers' seat of Kayla's Saturn, to which she offered a mock grumble of malcontent as he turned the engine over and aimed the nose of the car back into the city and medical aid for his partner.

While Kayla was being seen to by an impassive staff at the hospital, Nick waited. Now back in the passenger seat of the car he regarded his shaking hands with a degree of unease that he hadn't felt in a long while. His fingertips were stained with just a trace of Kayla's blood. It took that degree of self-control again for him not to bring his fingers to his lips and lick away that precious red. Frustrated, he wiped his hands on the folds of his duster and plunged a hand into one of the jackets pockets, withdrawing a slim, silver flask. Unscrewing the ivory crowned top he took a deep pull of the liquid contained therein, and with a deep sigh, swallowed the belt of bovine blood and closed his eyes as the thick liquid made his way down his throat.

A softly reproving 'tisk' brought him back to reality with a start. Kayla was leaning against the roof of the car and watching him intently. Her right hand now cleaned and lightly wrapped in snowy white gauze rested on her hip casually. "If I had known you had a problem with the bottle I never would have let you drive my car." She teased. "I _do_ have a reputation to think of, you know."

Nick was suitably abashed and swiftly tucked the flask back in his pocket. "It's not what you think, Kayla." He began somewhat lamely. How to explain this if she asked? Hardly something one could easily explain. A flask of blood – of course – everyone carried one of those. He mentally berated himself as she resumed her place in the drivers' seat.

She smiled dismissively and turned the engine over. "It never is, Nicola." She offered kindly. "I make no judgments what-so-ever, I assure you." She eased the car back into traffic. For the first time since their initial meeting, a heavy, uncomfortable silence passed between them. "We, uh, we've been booked off for the night. Damned hospital staff had to go blab to the Captain that I'd been hurt." More than mild annoyance clouded her tone. "I can take you back to the precinct, if you like."

God this was uncomfortable. Nick fidgeted slightly in his seat before responding. "What were you planning to do with the rest of the evening?" It sounded juvenile and lame even to his ears, and once said wished he could take it back and rephrase it.

She offered a shrug by way of initial answer. "Don't know really. Hadn't thought about it." She glanced at the illuminated clock in the dashboard. "If I go home too early my dog starts getting all suspicious. I may go to a club a friend owns. Just to kill some time."

Another edgy fidget. "Where is this club at?"

"Off the Embarcadero, on a little side street."

"If it's alright, I think I'd like to go with you. It seems the least I can do for getting us both suspended tonight."

An unnervingly knowing smile ticked at the corners of her lip. "You sure? It's not an environment for everyone."

"Yea, I'm sure."

Kayla gave no outward indication of pleasure or indifference to his acceptance of her offer, or vice-versa as it were.

Nick didn't miss the slight, subtle caress she offered a heretofore concealed silver pendent around her neck. An ornate Celtic cross. Suddenly, he felt very uneasy with his decision.


	4. The Wyvern

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Forever Knight (though if I did, things would have turned out differently!), they are property of Sony/Tri-Star and I am merely borrowing them and promise to put them back relatively unscathed when finished with them. No copyright infringement is meant and I incur no financial gain by the posting of this story. It is merely for entertainment purposes only.

Detective Kayla MacInnis (amid other characters introduced herein), and The Wyvern, however ARE mine and I will personally tear the throat out of anyone who dares steal them.

This takes place several years after 'Last Knight'

That said, and with upfront apologies to all Nick-and-Nat-packers (just wait till the end of the story till you flame me, please), enjoy the story.

Das Vampyre

* * *

Under the Wyvern's Wing

Chapter Four

The Wyvern

A pair of guff looking bouncers stood as sentinels in front of the club from whose interior thudded the dull thrum of alternative techno music. And bore the moniker of "The Wyvern" in wrought-iron traditional Gothic style lettering in company with cut-out image of the self-same named winged serpent above the windowless double doors.

One man was built like a sumo wrestler and solid as the brick wall he stood by and looked like he could spit nails should the need arise. The dour, sullen expression that lined his face melted to a friendly smile when Kayla strode up and he cracked a warm smile over the diminutive Detective who by all appearances he could squish with about as much compunction as an elephant to an ant. "Hey, Mac!" He called jovially, and offered her a hasty wave to the front of the line extending from the club entrance. "Long time, no see." He regarded Nick curiously. "Not here on business, I hope?"

With a negative shake of her head she retuned the smile and friendly embrace that was offered her by the massive bouncer. "Not this time, Butch. Just a friendly social call." She gestured to Nick. "This is my new partner, Nicola."

The bouncer, Butch, gave him a visual once-over and smiled, a bit more reserved, but friendly none the less. "Any friend of Mac's is fine by us." He shook Nick's hand with a bear-paw of a hand, and then returned his full attention to the red-head. "By the way, Mac, _He's_ been asking after you. You shouldn't stay away so long." He chuckled, a sound akin to the rumble of a small earthquake. "He gets jealous, you know." He tilted his bulbous, bald head back over his shoulder. "Go on in. Good to see you again."

The interior of The Wyvern was dimly lit with multi-colored recessed lights and the glint of spotlights on mirrored balls flashed on the floor and black walls of the club. Nick was instantly struck by how much it resembled The Raven. Down to the undeniable and distinctive presence of members of the Community, it was almost unnerving.

Several vampires, unknown to him, but genuine, called out greetings to Kayla she wove them a path through the dancing throng to the expansive ebony and brass bar at the far end of the club. There, the bartender, a raven-haired vampire, flashed a toothy grin. "About time you decided to show up again, Mac. He almost put out an APB on _you_." He offered a knowing glance and smile in Nick's direction.

"Then _he_ should learn how to pick up the phone and call a body if _he's_ really worried." She muttered airily taking up a deserted barstool and leaning on the polished brass handrail. "Shouldn't _he_, Dante?"

Dante smiled indulgently, clearly he and Kayla had engaged in this banter before. "Best you take that up him personally, Mac." He casually passed a white cloth along the bar in front of her. "The usual for you then?"

She shook her head in the negative. "Surprise me with something different."

Dante shrugged and chuckled. "You're the boss." He cast an appraising eye to Nick. "And what will it be for you?"

Nick gave a noncommittal shrug. "A glass of wine would be fine." He responded. "Red." Dante nodded curtly and vanished momentarily to retrieve the drinks. In the interim, he regarded Kayla with open curiosity. "You're well known here." He remarked with just a hint of amusement. "You don't strike me as the type to frequent a place like this."

"I'm full of surprises." She offered in an uncharacteristically sultry purr as Dante passed them two drinks.

The tone of her voice surprised Nick more than even he wanted to admit.

"_He_ knows you're here, Mac." Dante muttered in a low whisper. "_He'll_ be down to see you in a bit."

"Did you tell him I'm annoyed with him then?" She teased taking a delicate sip from the drink proffered her. "Wolf's Blood?" She pondered aloud with a lightly raised eyebrow. "That _is _a surprise."

"But of course, my dear." A silky smooth voice Nick was all too familiar with purred from behind them. "I would never have you served a second-rate beverage."

It made Nick feel physically ill when he took note of the smile that suddenly graced his partner's face as she drew her glass up to her lips again and take another small drink.

"Maybe not second-rate drinks, Lucien, but certainly second-rate consideration for friends you are supposedly concerned about." She intoned in a sarcastic jibe, turning slightly on the barstool to regard the ancient, fair-haired vampire.

Lucien LaCroix offered his trademark caustic smile and a look of mock-wound. "You cut me to the core, my dear." He muttered dramatically. "Surely there is _something_ I can do to make a mends." He captured one of her hands and with a flourish of noblesse oblige pressed a kiss to the back of it. "But I could reflect the same to you, Kayla. It's been far too long since you've graced this establishment. I do not respond well to such an affront." When he rose from his impromptu bow to regard her more fully he caught sight of Nick and offered the ghost of a truly wicked smile to him. The impact of which was lost on Kayla. "Not here on business, I hope." He purred as he took a recently vacated barstool behind her, one hand resting possessively on her shoulder.

Kayla actually tittered like a schoolgirl. "Hardly." She scoffed. "I can't drink on duty. No, this is purely a social call."

"Excellent!" LaCroix cooed, taking a proffered glass from Dante. "And to what do I owe the honor?"

She shrugged. "Showing my new partner my haunts, maybe." She offered by way of explanation. "Lucien, I would like you to meet my new partner, Nicola..."

"We've met." Nick cut her off somewhat more tersely than he had intended, and instantly regretted his tone for her reaction.

"Oh?" She queried with raised eyebrow and a glance over her shoulder to LaCroix.

"It's been a few years." LaCroix muttered smoothly, not missing a beat, and extended a hand to him as though they really were old friends. "Always a pleasure, Nicholas."

Nick took the proffered hand of his master as one would a dead fish and shook it thusly, under the intense scrutiny of Kayla's curious gaze. His own eyes fixed on the older vampire.

There was a moment or two of uneasy silence between the trio, punctuated by the backbeat of an alternative ballad.

"You really shouldn't be such a stranger, Kayla." LaCroix suavely purred, a little too close to her neck for Nick's comfort, though he knew his master was far too tactful to make a scene like what he imagined. "You've been missed here."

"Though obviously not by you, Lucien." She shot back with a mild and good natured barb.

Her neutral expression told Nick more than he wanted to really know. She was playing with fire – and she knew it. Unbidden, a name came to mind. _'Fleur!'_ He actually felt himself go cold with the memory. The sudden, sharp stab to his memory, the history between his beloved sister and his master was brought all too clearly. Briefly his head actually spun.

The look of brazen, arrogant triumph that flickered, if even briefly, across LaCroix's face told him as well, that was precisely the memory the master vampire wanted to evoke. The ancient vampire took in a deep breath – savoring the aroma of a phantom scent – and offered what could only possibly have been considered a sneer in Nick's direction – an expression that, clearly, Kayla was oblivious to. "The perfume you're wearing, my dear." The ancient vampire drew in another deep breath to punctuate his statement, "is simply," a brief but pregnant pause, "_intoxicating_."

To the casual observer, one would have thought nothing of the discourse between them. But to Nick it was akin to rubbing salt in a wound. He was about to launch into a subtle, albeit blunt tirade, on his partners behalf, when a young member of the Community approached and plucked Kayla's free hand away from the bar to press a kiss to the back of it.

The young man's appearance, to Nick at least, conjured images of none other than Rasputin. He offered Kayla a sloe-eyed smile and bowed courteously, if somewhat exaggerated. "I hope you didn't intend on monopolizing Miss MacInnis _all_ evening, LaCroix." His voice was a slow, seductive purr of a predator on the hunt.

On the barstool, Kayla shifted slightly, but clearly uncomfortably under the intense raptor-like gaze that was fixed upon her and a nervous tick at the corner of her lip belying the sudden air of unease that she emitted like a cloud.

Even LaCroix didn't miss it. "I leave the monopolization up entirely to the good detective, Milos." The ancient vampire offered little more than a sneer and a cautiously raised eyebrow to the dark-haired interloper. "And it is _entirely_ at her discretion." Therein lay a thinly veiled threat.

Milos offered a casual roll of his shoulder to LaCroix, hawk-gold eyes locked on Kayla like she was a savory side-dish. "I think that's for _her_ to decide." He intoned somewhat acerbically. That was all it took to break the tentative spell of mesmerization that Kayla was held in. She visibly flinched, drawing her hand away, if only slightly, from Milos. It was a swift, definitive action, even if it was, for the most part, involuntary.

It was a tone that was ill-advised of a fledgling when dealing with the likes of LaCroix.

The fair-haired vampire's reaction was immediate. His hand was on the young fledgling's wrist in less time than it took to blink, and the snarl that graced his lips and tone left no room to brook argument. "I believe it has just been made abundantly clear that she is _not_ interested, Milos." His voice lowered an octave as he growled in the young mans ear. A golden hue lit his eyes, which were thankfully, at least to Nick's mindset, concealed from Kayla's view, as he glared the younger vampire down.

It didn't take long for Milos to quail under the intense gaze of the elder who held him in the regard of no higher than maggots – and that would have been saying something positive for LaCroix's feeling towards the fledgling. But, the brash youngster wasn't of his creation and so of precious little concern to him; save where Kayla MacInnis was involved. Then, as far as fledglings were concerned, in his eyes, all bets were off.

The young vampire snarled softly and backed away, blending into the suddenly faceless masses swirling around the club. LaCroix was, apparently, mollified, as he turned Kayla to face him. "Ever the annoyance, n'es pas, ma petite?" He cooed smoothly, taking her freed hand and gently pressing his lips to the back of it. "My most sincere apologies, Kayla, I assure you, I will _not _happen again." He said it as much to reassure Nick as the clearly shaken detective.

Kayla shook her head slightly, clearing away the last of the cobwebs that hung on her mind. This action seemed to perturb LaCroix immensely and he glared in the direction Milos had vanished into. Nick couldn't immediately fathom the reason. Then a possible explanation hit him; she was what the Community referred to as a 'resister'; one who could not be easily mesmerized, and yet had seemingly been.

Nick gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Kayla? Are you alright?"

She shook her head again and nodded faintly. "Gotta watch those weird drinks, I guess." She muttered softly and cast wan eyes over to an equally perplexed looking Dante. "More likely it's the shots they gave me at the hospital." She offered an apologetic smile to the bartender. "Nothing personal, Dante." She leaned slightly against LaCroix's shoulder. "I think I need to go home now..." Her last statement was little more than a soft whisper against the ancient vampire's shoulder.

Silent, and suddenly very stoic, LaCroix inclined his head ever so slightly to her. He spoke softly, almost tenderly, in Gaelic, guarded words that even Nick couldn't catch, but whose meaning was clearly a balm on Kayla's nerves – for she issued a soft, comforted sigh and sank slightly against him. He turned an intense, icy gaze to Nick. "I don't think I have to impart to you, Nicholas that this young woman is under _my_ protection." There was no thin veil on this implied threat. Between these two there was no need for such pretense. "I would have another take her home, but there are few here that I trust enough with her safety in this state. And I can hardly leave the club right now." His tone took on a hard edge. "You _know_ not to let me down, Nicholas."

The unspoken request was met with a sullen nod and hard gaze. Nick couldn't tell who he was more annoyed with at the moment; Milos, LaCroix or Kayla. But it hardly mattered. LaCroix knew him too well. Knew he would put aside their personal differences and putting the welfare of his partner first and foremost.

In that same stoic silence he gathered Kayla up to him and offered LaCroix another barely discernible nod. Having gently laced her arms over his shoulders and tucked her head securely in the crook of his neck, he hefted her into his arms, and weaving through the throngs that writhed on the clubs dance floor navigated out the door and to the waiting car.

It occurred only briefly to Nick that he had no notion where Kayla lived, and the glassy-eyed expression that met his anxious look did little to reassure him of her wellbeing. But a quick glance into her wallet for an address and a few wrong turns planted them under the corrugated metal awning what looked like an old warehouse. There, he gave momentary pause, wondering if he was in the wrong place, but the incessant barking of a dog and the flicker of recognition that glittered in the depths of Kayla's eyes told otherwise.

He glanced up at the sky as he gently lifted his partner's unresisting frame back against him. Dawn would be cresting soon and a part of him knew there was no way he could get back to his own loft in time.

As if reading his thoughts, Kayla muttered from the crook of his neck. "Don't worry, I've plenty of room and you're more than welcome to stay. I'd actually," she faltered slightly, "appreciate it if you did...if you don't mind..." The sensation of her breath of his neck made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and an unfamiliar shudder to course down his spine.

He was about to mutter a declination of her offer when he was set upon by a black ball of fur and teeth that yelped joyfully at his mistress' return.

Kayla waved a dismissive arm to the black German Shepherd. "Oh pipe down, Raleigh!" Her hand made contact briefly with the dogs' snout; softly, playfully. "Worry wart!" She chuckled softly. It was enough of a cue for Nick to know that she was ready to at least attempt to stand on her own two feet. A task he was grateful, if a bit begrudgingly, lent himself to. She managed to gain her feet, however wobbly, and still relied on his shoulder and arm for support. "I told you he gets suspicious." She reached down a hand and ruffled the fur between the canine's upright ears.

Raleigh, a coal black Shepherd with moderate white markings and wolf-like gold eyes, for his part, the dog regarded Nick with only mild interest. A slowly wagging tail and a moderately suspicious snuff in his direction were all that were granted him before the dogs full attention was on the ear scratch that Kayla offered.

The dogs name suddenly struck Nick. It was the same name he had given a cur that had shared his company decades ago. A creature that found it within its own heart to share the company of a vampire with little regard for his nature and was just happy for the fresh meat, and a warm, dry place to sleep. The same dog that he had been forced to hunt down and slay himself after LaCroix, ever his envious self, led the dog to a caroche – a sub-vampire that subsisted on the blood of animals only and were regarded by the Community as a whole as little more than a blight on an otherwise affluent species.

He only allowed himself to get lost in the memory for a moment. He helped Kayla up a flight of dimly lit stairs and up to a heavy steel door on a landing. An illuminated keypad beside the door was more or less the only source of light at the end of a long gloomy hallway. She leaned over and punched in a sequence of eight numbers, not really taking any great pains to conceal them from his sight. A soft, dull click from within the workings of the door and she pushed it on its sliding rollers.

Raleigh yelped with glee and bolted on ahead, his claws clattering out an uneven tattoo on hardwood flooring. Kayla groaned in mock annoyance and slipped inside the dark, cavernous maw that represented her home.

"You can at least see me in and allow me to offer you a drink." She muttered, still at his side. "It's the least I owe you for being such an ass tonight."

"You don't owe me anything, Kayla..." Nick began as she flicked several switches and bathed the interior of the building with soft light. At first he winced for the sudden suffusion of light. What met his eyes when adjusted was reminiscent more of a museum than any home one would suspect for a detective of the San Francisco PD.

What met his gaze was more strongly a reminder of the loft he had left in Toronto, only with a more varied selection of object d'art. Everything from the oil paintings and tapestries that dressed the walls, to the stuffed horse in full period armor; it was a collection worthy of any museum he'd certainly ever known.

Or of someone who was everything but what they appeared to be. He cast a shocked eye throughout the buildings interior. Oblivious, at the moment, of Kayla's presence.

A soft chuckle at his shoulder brought him back to some semblance of reality. A soft smile of understanding graced weary lips, and a glitter of an all too familiar mischief flickered in the depths of emerald eyes. "Welcome the Museum de MacInnis, Monsieur DeBrabant."


	5. To the Manor Born

1Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Forever Knight (though if I did, things would have turned out differently), they are property of Sony/Tri-Star and I am merely borrowing them and promise to put them back relatively unscathed when finished with them. No copyright infringement is meant and I incur no financial gain by the posting of this story. It is merely for entertainment purposes only.

Detective Kayla MacInnis (amid other characters introduced herein), and The Wyvern, however ARE mine and I will personally tear the throat out of anyone who dares steal them.

This takes place several years after 'Last Knight'

That said, and with up-front apologies to all Nick-and-Nat-packers (just wait till the end of the story till you flame me, please), enjoy the story.

Das Vampyre

Under the Wyvern's Wing

* * *

Chapter Five

To the Manor Born

For the longest time Nick could only stare. His gaze shooting between his new partner and the somewhat enigmatic smile she presented him, and the vast collection that her seemingly modest home, if it truly could be called that, contained. For a few lengthy moments, he was genuinely speechless.

A demanding yalp from Raleigh garnered his attention back to the now somewhat drawn appearance of his partner. "You'll have to excuse me," she began in a passably amusing Igor impression, complete with hunched over posture and half-sealed eye. "My master demands his dinner. And I know better than to argue with him." She shuffled away a few paces toward a dimly illuminated kitchenette. "Last time I was late he dug up my fake bougainvillaea." She straightened up and strode more purposefully toward the kitchen and impatiently waiting dog. "Help yourself to a look-see around. Be with you momentarily." Then set about the task of opening and dishing out the canines dinner. "I swear, Ral, I don't know how you can eat this stuff." She griped to the dog teasingly. "Course you probably feel the same way about some of the stuff I eat."

Amused by the banter, but not a party to it, Nick wandered into the heart of the room, gazing around, still disbelieving in the sights presented, with wide, almost awe-struck eyes.

There was more art hanging on the walls in the same style as the knight and lady that held it's own place of honor on her office walls. It finally struck him the resemblance between the women in the illustrations and Kayla. It was uncanny.

Also adorning the walls, in the company of genuine European tapestries, were oil paintings similar in period to the woven artworks that were their companions. In one oddly shadowed corner he saw framed posters of classic film noir movies. A table, set below a large poster boasting the name Bela Lagosi as Dracula, housed a myriad of trinkets of distinctly Egyptian flavor. Upon closer inspection they revealed a number of items of antiquity that he knew more than well not to touch: ushapti, ankhs, figurines of ancient Gods of the region, and framed bits of papyrus with elaborately printed out sections from the Book of the Dead.

What had gained more his fuller attention was the stuffed raven black charger in full battle armor, posed at a full gallop. The only thing missing from the scene was the knight astride the beasts back. As he approached the steed closer the eyes of the creature seemed to glow with a kind of other worldly light (surely a trick of the lights above). But there was no question of the fire in the depths of the equine's mocha brown eyes. It was unnervingly entrancing, and brought back an onslaught of old memories that, at the moment at least, Nick felt better leaving buried.

"His name was Raven Knight." Kayla's soft voice whispered from his shoulder causing him to visibly start. "He belonged to my..." her voice faltered and died for a moment. With an obvious effort she cleared her throat and continued. "He belonged to my last partner, Patrick." Reaching out a hand she lovingly caressed the exposed portion of the creature's ebony jaw. "When he died, we had him...preserved...and dressed him up in this old armor." A soft puff of mirthless laughter passed her lips. "I think the old guy would have liked it. He was a show-off. Even for a horse."

Sometimes discretion truly was the better part of valor, and so Nick didn't press any questions about her former partner, obviously one of the two photographs in her office, at least for the time being, and moved on a different tack. Clearing his throat politely he turned to face her. "Not that I want to pry," he began, but the smile and utterly disbelieving cast of Kayla's eyes his direction told him, without a doubt, that she didn't believe that statement for one second. "Alright, then you know I just have to ask...how did you come into owning all this," he made a grand, sweeping gesture with his hand, "stuff."

The half-smile she had fixed to her lips didn't falter for a moment. "I inherited most of it from my family. I guess our line goes back even further than I had researched." She shrugged dismissively. "It seems this place has become more museum than home now, but I guess I shouldn't complain." She chuckled softly. "I know a few places that would give their right arms, and a few other things, to get even half of this...collection." Again a soft chuckle then and ill stifled yawn. "But, I still owe you a drink, right." When she saw him open his mouth to object to the offer she quickly raised a hand to silence it. "And I won't take 'no' for an answer." She muttered with a finality. "I get put off by rejection. Hope red's okay." She called out over her shoulder as she made her way back into the kitchen drawing out two wine bottles and glasses.

Pouring out a glassful of a sweet, floral scented white wine into one glass, she then portioned out a deep ruby red from a bottle emblazoned with a coiled, winged serpentine figure that was etched into the other glass. It struck Nick with an almost physical shock upon recognition of the symbol. He had seen it's replica not but a few hours before - a wyvern.

Gesturing for him to take a seat on a plushly stuffed black leather sofa she handed the red 'wine' to him with a disconcerting, knowing smile on her lips. "Wyvern's special reserve." She muttered by way of explanation. "The same I saw Dante pour you the same at the club and thought you should at least have the pleasure of being able to drink it."

Silently and uncertainly he took the glass from her and hazarded taking a sniff of the liquors bouquet. That served as more than enough to convince him that it was what he had suspicions of. Blood. Mixed with a powerfully aromatic red wine, but it's tale-tale trace was there without a doubt. It's scent alone was intoxicating enough without the added lure of actually being forced to drink it. It was then that an unnerving thought occurred to him, one he was hesitant to even lend his voice to. "Does LaCroix frequently gift you with such vintages?" Phrased as delicately as possible.

Kayla was in the midst of a sip of her own wine while the question was presented. She made a soft, affirming sound and nodded faintly. "Sometimes he does. Lucien has an open invitation here. He's one of the few people I don't mind dropping by unannounced."

Nick's stomach turned to icy lead. "And does he come by often?" Try as he might, he couldn't keep the hint of sudden envy and chill from his voice.

Kayla quirked a fair eyebrow to his tone as much as the question it postured. "Occasionally, when he has time or a reason to visit. Last time was just about a week or two ago." Her own curiosity was obviously piqued. "Why do you ask?"

A sudden wave of excuses, explanations and reasons flooded his mind, but nothing that wasn't shy of outright accusatory came to bare. "I...I'm just curious is all." He glanced her direction, in what he hoped was a casual manner. The expression he was met with assured him she didn't believe a word of that. With a resigned sigh, he set the wine glass down and turned to face her directly. "LaCroix is a dangerous man, Kayla. You _have _to know that. I don't think you're aware of just how much so, and," he paused briefly, or perhaps just a little too long, then continued in a somewhat milder tone, "I would hate to see you hurt because of him."

Kayla seemed to take a moment or two to digest what he said and something, wholly indecipherable, flickered just behind her eyes. It could have been perceived as anything from amusement to annoyance at being told how to behave around someone she believed to be a legitimate friend, but some how it left him with a distinct feeling of a different emotion. She was touched by his concern. The smile she granted him after she carefully considered his words supported and cemented that theory.

With an air of undeniable grace that was entirely out of place with her otherwise and outwardly 'nothing's going to touch me unless I want it to' attitude, she set her wine glass down and leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, one arm draped over the back of it resting absently on the polished surface of a brass and glass sofa table and ran her fingertips along the edge of the beveled smoky glass, her eyes traveling along it's smooth, rounded edge. Her words were spoken softly and chosen with the utmost care, even to the naive ear, one could hear the underlying affection she held for LaCroix. "I appreciate your concern, Nicola, believe me I do. But,' she paused and fixed him with a gaze so intense he actually felt a kind of heat rise at his collar and actually made him feel just the slightest bit uneasy under its scrutiny. "I'm a big girl. I've seen more on this job that would make most people loose their lunches." A soft chuckle softened her words, and the flicker behind her eyes was replaced by one of something far more akin to one that was a mix of affection and amusement. "I've seen some rookies come on the force who are all boastful talk and peacock strut, but when they face up to the reality of what we sometimes see here, only to turn ghost pale and run back to a patrol car and get quietly sick in the back seat. Which, by they way they have to pay for,"

Her gauze wrapped right hand closed around the wine glass and raised it to her lips, drawing from the sweet scented nectar a deceptively delicate swallow before it resumed its place on the coffee table. Her eyes, for a long moment, remained diverted and locked upon the glass in a contemplative fashion. Absently, again as before, when they had been booked off and she suggested a visit to the Wyvern, her fingers strayed and caressed the silver chain around her neck and the silver Celtic cross that it bore. "I know you're concerned about Lucien, Nicola, but you really oughtn't be. He was the best friend I could have asked for after Patrick..." again she struggled at the mere mention of her former partners name, and again spoke softer at the mention on his name, "after he was killed. So many people deserted me then. Silently accusing me for the incident, without words telling me it was my fault my partner died. He was the only one who seemed to know better. He offered a shoulder to cry on and a compassionate ear when all others had turned away."

Another heavy silence descended, though this was far from uncomfortable. She glanced at the steel shuttered windows and mused absently. "The sun must be up by now. You're welcome to stay here the day since we're both supposed to work a shift today anyway, you might as well. I think I have some of Pat's stuff that might just fit you if you want. And the sofa is comfortable, but I have a spare room upstairs that I rarely use." She smiled, still distracted by the pale gold of her wine. "That is if you don't mind Raleigh paying you a visit and being a heating pad."

Something in her offer ticked an invisible cog in Nick's brain. Not many people would make that offer the way she did. A mild concern knitted his fair brows together in a knot of concern. What did she know about him that she wasn't letting on? About the Community as a whole? About LaCroix? It concerned him. Moreover, it worried him. Particularly where it concerned LaCroix. But before he even knew what he was saying, his mouth seemed to answer for him without his brain's conscious consent. "Thank you. And the guest room would be fine." The easy smile that had endeared him to so many in the past was now directed at his fire maned partner. "And I don't mind canine 'heating pads' as you call him, at all." He managed to bite his tongue before adding _'I don't mind human ones either.'_ Thank goodness for that.

An invisible weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. For her posture grew instantly more relaxed upon hearing his answer and a nearly inaudible sigh flared her nostrils. "I'll get the night clothes for you then and any toiletries you might need." A bit too hastily she got to her feet to retrieve the promised items, and it seemed only the span of a few heart beats placed her at the back of the sofa again offering him said items with a soft, no longer reserved smile on her lips, though obvious secrecy shaded the depths of her eyes. "Come on, I'll show you the room."

She lead him up the wrought iron appointed stairs to the second level of her home, or museum, as she appropriately called it, to a decent sized room with what looked to be a queen sized bed made up with claret shaded satin sheets. "There's a bathroom adjoined just there, full up if you wanted to take a shower or anything." She gestured vaguely. "And my room is just there." Again gesturing to a room just one door down suffused in the tell tale flicker of what was, no doubt, the illumination of several candles. "Just give a shout or give me a nudge if you find you need anything." He could see her blush slightly to her own words. He found it quite a fetching look for her, and very flattering, but managed to catch himself before he commented to, or actually _complimented_, her on the rosy hue, he managed a grateful smile and modest statement. "I'm sure that won't be needed, but thank you none the less."

She smiled in an alluring innocent way that reminded him again, in a heart rending way, of his dear long departed sister, Fleur. "Well, good night then." She chuckled and shrugged slightly, a bright spark of amusement lighting her eyes to glow vibrantly. "Or day, whichever." She leaned against the door jam and regarded him contemplatively for a moment or two, the smile never wavering from her lips. "Either way, I hope you have peaceful dreams, and if Raleigh annoys you just give him the boot. He'll only hold it against you for about thirty seconds...or as long as it takes him to find one of his chew toys."

He smiled winningly again at her, all ill ease vanishing like so much fog on a sunny day. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Yea." She muttered absently. Then, purely on impulse, of so he hoped, at least on her part, she bridged the scant distance between them, placing her wounded hand on his chest, just shy of his shoulder and leaned up to plant a soft, unmistakably affectionate kiss on his cheek. "Have a good rest." She muttered softly, almost in a whisper, then back away and padded down the hall to her own room, turning just in the doorframe to regard him with one last statement. "Nicola,"

"Yea?"

"I know you're worried about Lucien, but please don't be." Her words were still soft, still carefully spoken, but they sent a chill through him like an Arctic wind. Her eyes fixed on his and held him in an almost hypnotic gaze. "I know who he is. I know what he is." A heartbeat's pause, then pointedly, "And I'm not afraid of him." She turned and entered her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

The last statement hit Nick like a ton of bricks. He wasn't afraid of LaCroix either.

Suddenly, he was terrified.


End file.
